Loose Ends
by Cindylou30
Summary: The armoury doors swoosh closed behind her, leaving Tony Stark, dying and unconscious, alone. -A story in which an old friend seeks revenge, and may or may not get it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hi, again! I can't say too much- _spoilers_ \- but this story is set to pick up a few months after the series end and seeks to explore one of the loose ends left by the writers. A certain escape is shown that never has a resolution in the show, so here is my interpretation of the following events. I hope you enjoy!**

 ** _IM:AA_ doesn't belong to me.**

"What type of tie should I wear with my tux?"

Pepper glances at Tony quizzically from where she sits in the comm chair. He has his neck craned, peering at her expectantly over his shoulder, holograms of a few selections of ties at his fingertips.

"What for?" she asks, pausing the game she'd been playing on her phone and pushing herself up out of the seat. Tony chuckles as if it should be obvious, turning back to the images as she approaches.

"For prom. Duh."

"You're going to prom?" Pepper asks with wide eyes. Tony shoots her a bewildered expression, pausing unsurely at the keyboard.

"Well... yeah. Aren't you? Because I thought..." Tony gasps as Pepper lurches forward, clasping a hand to his mouth and muffling his words.

"No, no, you can't do it like that! You have to ask me! And it has to be cute. Like with flowers or something." Pepper releases him and steps back, beaming at him and toeing the floor with a scuffed shoe.

"I- I have to ask you? Isn't it obvious that we're already-"

"Shh, it's just a thing. You _have_ to do it."

"Ah. This is one of those girl things, isn't it?" Pepper shoots him another wide smile in answer. "Okay, then. What did you have in mind?"

"Just look up "promposals." I'm sure you'll get some ideas."

Tony rolls his eyes as he carelessly swipes away the holograms, shoving his hands in his pockets. It seemed ridiculous to him that he should have to ask Pepper to prom when they were already dating, but he knew as well that the occasion meant a lot to her- if any of her incessant chatter about dresses and dancing were to mean anything. Maybe she just wanted to follow out her childhood fantasies or something.

Tony glances over at the unit where his Mark II armour was housed. It seemed fair enough to ask when he himself had been living his own fantasies with the creation of the Iron Man armour.

"If only there was a pretty girl around that I could ask to prom in such a spectacular display of romance and affection," Tony says with as much bravado as he can muster, quirking a brow at her. Pepper socks him in the shoulder. He rubs his arm with a laugh.

"We'll see who's laughing when you have to debate tomorrow on congressional authority for your final exam." That effectively silences him. Tony had been dreading the AP debate's final exam for weeks- although he had no preparation to show for it. Obviously. "Anyway," Pepper says smugly, knowing she'd won that round, "I want to take out the Rescue armour for a quick spin. Just to test out the software update you gave it."

"The update was routine. The enhancements were minuscule, if at all noticeable. There's no need..." He trails off, noticing the hopeful glint in her eyes. "Right, you just want an excuse to take it out, huh?"

" _Yes_ , please! Aw, thanks Tony, you're the best!" Pepper hugs him quickly and then practically sprints over to the armour dock where the purple armour still stands, like a silent sentinel watching over them. Tony huffs but smiles all the same. He knows he can never stay upset with her so he doesn't even try.

"Be careful! I don't want to have to come peel you off any billboards or pay the city for damages."

"Uh-huh, yeah, okay." The mask is already sliding over her face, her voice distorted as she chirps, "Got it, thanks! See you in a bit, Tony!"

"See ya, Pep." Tony waves as Pepper rockets off to terrorise some pigeons or scare some suits in their skyrise apartments. He'd be lying if he'd said he didn't plan to keep tabs on her whereabouts with the location system implanted in all the armours. Not that he didn't trust her, or find her incapable, but she was still practically in the infancy stages of flying as Rescue. Better to be safe than sorry, if the incident with Happy Hogan had taught him anything.

A few minutes later, a beep from the communication system alerts him of an oncoming message. Pepper's chipper voice echoes through the armoury as she says, "By the way, black tie and black Converse!" Tony grins to himself, although he isn't sure why.

He's about to pull out some schematics he's working on for an upgrade for the Hulk-buster armour when he hears the noise - _kshh_ \- of the entrance of the armoury depressurising. He glances over, expecting Rhodey, but startles at the sight of Pepper strolling in, smiling at him.

His spine stiffens as he straightens up, glancing from her to the empty armour port. Pepper had left less than ten minutes ago in her suit.

"Hey, Tony!" Pepper says, waving at him as she walks over. Tony backs away slowly, swallowing thickly. "What's up?"

"Who are you?" he says, struggling to keep his voice even. "Why are you here?" Pepper feigns shock at the accusing tone, holding her hands up defensively and stopping a few feet shy of him. Tony feels his muscles tensing for a fight.

"It's me, silly. Who else?"

"Pepper literally just flew out in her armour." His voices quiets to a low growl. "Who _are you_?"

The girl sighs, folding her arms and watching him now with narrowed eyes. "Well that didn't last long. At least it got me inside." Her disguise melts away, neon pink fading to harsh navy. Pepper's short cropping of ginger hair lengthens and darkens and a golden mask blinks into existence on the intruder's face. She pulls from her belt a long, thin dart-gun as Tony gapes at her.

"Madame Masque- Whitney!" Not good, not good, this was very not good. Tony turns and starts to reach for his armour with Extremis but is interrupted as a sharp pinch stings his upper arm. He gasps through clenched teeth and slaps his hand to the affected site, finding a dart protruding from his skin. Before he can even assess the situation he feels the dart taking root as he loses his connections with the armour, his Computer, and all other tech around him. His mind feels strangely empty and spacious without their presence.

"I've spent the last few weeks disguised as a SHIELD operative. Since you were so _kind_ to flout the name of your power- Extremis- to me during round one, I managed to find out all I needed to know about it." Tony turns to her, cerulean eyes wide and disbelieving. "The concoction in those darts counteracts Extremis. I don't know how. It doesn't matter."

He should have known SHIELD was prepared in the case of Iron Man going dark-side.

He's about to lunge for the armour, hope he can just outrun her, but the unmistakable click of the safety of a gun being released halts him in his tracks. He faces her slowly, hands in fists at his sides. Whitney has taken the mask off, her hair back to its natural blonde colour. In her gloved hands she holds a revolver, her focus unwavering as she brings it to point to his chest.

"Don't," Tony says, not sure what else he can say. All of his other reasons had been exhausted, and fruitless, in the last battle against the youngest Stane.

Whitney ignores him. "I stopped by to see your dear old dad, today," she says innocently, pretending for a moment to be inspecting the hammer mechanism on the gun. She laughs pointedly at Tony's horrified expression, dramatically rolling her eyes. "No, I didn't shoot him. I was going to. I had every intention of coming here and being able to say I'd done it. I couldn't, though. Howard Stark was like a father to me when my own dad was too busy to be."

"We were _all_ like family once," Tony whispers earnestly. "You and me, we didn't have anyone else. We had each other."

"And then you changed that when you put my dad into a coma," Whitney grinds out, her knuckles turning white on the grip. "When you lied to me, when you went behind my back over and over again without me knowing."

"Please, Whitney-" Tony hesitantly starts to take a step closer. Whitney drops the gun's aim just a hair and pulls the trigger.

Tony screams in pain as he drops to his knees, his hands flying to protectively cover his abdomen. Whitney swiftly draws nearer and kicks him onto his back, shooting him again in the stomach. A cry rips involuntarily from the inventor's mouth as he curls in on himself, eyes squeezed tightly in agony.

"You know why a gutshot is often used in revenge-killings?" Whitney circles him as he thrashes, groaning between clenched teeth. Blood ebbs from between his fingers. "It's not the loss of blood that usually kills you, not unless you nick an artery. It's the infection. The death is long and painful. I think it's fitting that you should die in such a personal way. Not from some clean blast from a laser-gun. No, I want you to suffer."

"Wh- _Whit_..." Tony screams and curls up even tighter when Whitney aims a kick at his stomach. His breathing is ragged and erratic, and he's obviously in anguish, but he's trying to hold back, to withhold the satisfaction from Whitney of seeing him beg and scream and cry. Even in the end, she thinks, he's trying to play hero.

Whitney waits, patiently, as Tony's movements become more and more subdued as he goes into shock and, ultimately, begins to lose consciousness. After a few minutes of spluttering and hacking up blood and bile, blue eyes eventually slip closed and his arms go slack on the armory floor. Whitney smiles. Even if he isn't dead yet, it feels so glad to know she's finally come out on top.

Even if it doesn't make her dad wake up.

Slipping on the mask, her appearance soon mirrors that of the genius lying prone on the floor, save for the wounds. "Computer," she says in a precise copy of Tony's voice, "what protocols do you have for locking down the armoury?"

" _Just a few weeks ago, emergency sequence QUARANTINE ISOLATION was programmed into the armoury's system. Commencing this program initiates lock-down of the armoury. Lock-down can be set to a specific allotted amount of time or can be lifted by user Stark, Anthony's order._ "

"Perfect." The perfect mimicry's lips twist into another demented smile. "Start that, will you?" She turns to leave, sparing only a short glance at the body on the floor, swinging her borrowed hips as she leaves. "Oh, and Computer," she says in Tony's voice, almost as an afterthought. "Take orders only from me from now on."

The armoury doors swoosh closed behind her, leaving Tony Stark, dying and unconscious, alone.

 **A/N Well, there you go! Chapter one of what will be a two or three chapter story. I already have much of the next chapter written, but I'm still not sure if I'll add the third. I guess we'll see. Oh, and since I couldn't say it at the beginning- for spoiler purposes- the last time we saw Whitney, she was escaping as Madame Masque by pretending to be a SHIELD agent. Let me know what you thought, and what you think is going to happen! Have a great day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you Anna Katari (I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint.) and SilverPedals1402 (Hey, thank you! Hopefully I met your expectations with this chapter, haha. Will Tony survive? We'll see, we'll see... And it always bothered me that Whitney's story arc was left open in the way it was. It honestly made me hopeful for a season three, back in the day, haha.) for commenting! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. More notes at the bottom.**

 ** _IM:AA_ does not belong to me. Sadly. Season three, where you at?**

"Pepper! Did you-"

"I already got the alert, Rhodey," Pepper says curtly as she answers the call. She's zooming above the city like a rocket, pushing her armour to the limit trying to reach the armoury as fast as she can. "Something about gunfire in the armoury, and now Tony won't pick up. He always picks up, Rhodey. I'm worried."

"What's your ETA? I was on my way there already. I'll be there in five."

"I might beat you. I'm in my Rescue armour."

Pepper is trying not to worry herself too much with possible horrific scenarios, but worrying is one of the things she does best. Who knows about the location of the armoury, besides Team Iron Man and Howard Stark? Ghost? He definitely had reason to want Tony dead, now that he no longer had the blackmail of his secret identity to hold over his head. Was there anyone else?

"Rhodey, who else knows about the location of the armoury, besides us?"

"Let's see." Rhodey is quiet for a moment, presumably mulling the question over. "Ghost, for one. Arthur Parks. I suppose MODOC, but he's dead. Uh... Whitney Stane, but she's in SHIELD isolation."

"Think it was Ghost? Oh, no, it was, wasn't it? Oh, _God_ , Rhodey, if it was Ghost-"

"Pepper, stop freaking out. Look, I'm pulling up, okay? I'll see you when you get here."

"Okay-" The calls disconnects as Rhodey hangs up. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Pepper begs her suit to hasten although she's already reached the propulsion system's maximum speed. Terrifying scenes of what could be happening to Tony continue to haunt her as she flies.

When she arrives less than a minute later, she is concerned to see that Rhodey is standing outside the armoury entrance, head bowed over his phone's screen. Pepper lands beside him, prompting him to look up at her with wide eyes.

"Pepper..." he says, his voice fragile as glass, and that's when she knows for certain the nightmare is real.

"Why are you standing out here?" she asks shakily. "We need to go help him!"

"We can't get in. We've been locked out."

Ignoring him, Pepper stomps over to the retinal scanner, her mask sliding back to allow the scanner to reach her. A brilliant flash of red light later and the electronic voice of the computer is stating in that droll monotone, " _Access denied_." Pepper turns back to her friend, unable to keep her face implacable as fear breaks through; it doesn't comfort her to see that Rhodey looks equally distressed, if not more so.

"Rhodey, what's going on?"

Rhodey pockets his phone before Pepper can demand to see it- which she was certainly about to. "I just watched the security footage," Rhodey says, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever bad news he's about to divulge. "It's the only thing I can get to. The armoury is on lock-down. Whitney- Madame Masque- she..." Rhodey looks crestfallen, turning away from Pepper. "She shot him, Pepper, and we can't get to him."

Pepper shakes her head, already refusing to believe what she's hearing. Whitney Stane was here? And she- she _shot_ him? That little... Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to focus on the situation at hand. She'd always said that she performed well under pressure, and now more than ever was the time for her to demonstrate that. Rhodey, usually the clear-headed and logical thinker of the three, clearly isn't operating on all six-cylinders at the moment from whatever he saw on those tapes. Right now it's up to her. "We can get his dad, see if he can hack the computer and get us inside. Or we can just bust in."

"His dad might could get past Tony's crazy freaking security system in a few hours, or days, but we don't have that kind of time. Even if we had my War Machine armour, Pepper, we couldn't get inside. It's sealed up like a vault. I helped Tony test it myself."

"There's gotta be a command to get inside."

"The only one who can override the lock-down is Tony, and he's out cold." He doesn't say dead. Tony can't be dead. They can't even consider that.

Pepper looks away, brows pinching deep in thought, before she sharply turns to Rhodey. "You said it was Madame Masque. _She_ can open the armoury with that mask."

Rhodey frowns, clearly not sold on the idea. "Pepper, she's the one who shot him in the first place. How are you supposed to convince her to help him?"

"Leave that to me." Pepper's face-plate clanks back into place. "How can I find her?"

"Tony found her last time by tracking the energy signature the mask gave off. He said it was specific only to the type of ore used in the mask."

She has a plan. A questionable one at that, and she isn't sure how she intends to carry it through yet, but it's a plan nonetheless. "Computer, trace the, uh..." Pepper isn't sure what the proper terms are for this command. "Find Madame Masque," she settles on. The armour seems to understand, plotting out a course for her to follow that allegedly leads to the shooter. She turns to Rhodey, her voice modulator muffling her voice as she says, "Go get Howard and get him started on trying to get in. I'm going after the Queen Bee."

Pepper finds Whitney in a secluded section of Central Park. It's late enough that the park has already closed for the night, leaving her alone in eerie silence as she touches down a few hundred feet from the girl.

Whitney's mask is on, a heavy-duty assault laser rifle shouldered as she turns to face Pepper. Pepper is briefly reminded of her adolescent fear of dolls and mannequins before she squashes the thought and lifts one of her gauntlet repulsors, taking aim at the Stane.

"Whitney," she cries out, cursing herself as her voice breaks, "you need to come with me to fix this mess."

Madame Masque, in response, hefts the weapon at her shoulder and fires three shots in quick succession at her. Pepper dodges the first two but takes the third directly in the chest. She winces as she hits the dirt but quickly leaps back up to her feet.

"You know, I'm doing you a favour, Pepper," Whitney coos. "Tony, _so_ not boyfriend material." She takes a few die-sized bombs from her belt and throws them towards Pepper, where they clatter at her feet. This time she deflects the blast with her shields, although a nearby tree is incinerated.

"Whitney, you'll be facing a whole lot more than a bit of jail-time if you let him die. Homicide far outranks attempted homicide in the eyes of Lady Justice, AKA the _court_." Pepper doesn't return fire yet; she still needs her in one piece. Or at least conscious. "If you grant us access to him, maybe we can cut a deal, get you a more lenient sentence."

"You think I care about prison?" Whitney cries, her voice shrill. "My father is practically _dead_ , all thanks to Tony Stark. Now I'm going to make sure he dies, too." From her belt Whitney pulls out what appears to be a pistol, but it unfolds in her hands to equal the size of a bazooka. Before Pepper can even guess what the contraption is, a beam of green light bursts from it, ensnaring her in its grip. "Stasis field, ripped from the Iron Man specs stolen by Ghost. Neat, huh?"

Pepper screams in irritation, attempting to squirm free of the field- but its hold on her is airtight, and she can't even wiggle a finger. She's seen Tony ensnared in one of these before, when he was fighting SHIELD's mandroids. What was it that he had done to free himself?

"All power to shields for three seconds!" she cries out. As Whitney is aiming a grenade launcher previously slung around her back, Pepper is cocooned in the flickering light of the shields as they blink into existence. It doesn't take long for the shields to burst apart the stasis field with a blinding flash, although the action has severely drained her armour. The grenade is decimated in the explosion.

"Just listen to me-" Pepper tries again, but she is promptly ignored and cut off.

"No, you listen to me! Nothing can replace what he took from me, but this..." Whitney's finger hovers over the trigger. "This comes close."

"Pepper!" Rhodey's voice filters through the comm. link as Pepper gears herself up for another one-sided attack.

"Rhodey! I'm not doing so hot here. She's not listening to me at all, and every time I talk to her she just gets angrier-"

"Pepper!" She is interrupted again, and this time by Howard. "You don't need her, only the mask. If you can take her mask, then you can open the armoury yourself."

Pepper's face slackens with the realisation as she narrowly misses another attack. Why had she not thought of that before? What was it Tony always said about emotions getting the better of rational thinking minds?

"Roger, dodger," she nods, and this time when Whitney attacks she reciprocates.

Repulsors blast from her gauntlets and unibeam as she launches volley after volley towards the girl. Whitney expertly escapes them all- all but the last one, which nicks her arm and leaves a bright red blistering mass on her exposed skin. She cries out in pain, but doesn't waste time blasting Pepper again with the stasis gun. This time Pepper is ready, deflecting the beam before it ever reaches her.

Whitney drops the gun and stumbles backwards, reaching into her pocket for more explosives, but Pepper is faster. She launches forward, grabbing Whitney by the wrist and flying upwards until they're hovering several feet above the ground. Whitney struggles and kicks out at her, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the cold iron fingers holding her.

"What are you going to do? Kill me? You know that means Tony is as good as dead."

"Turns out we don't need you at all," Pepper says coldly, ripping the mask from Whitney's face. The girl gapes at her in surprise, free hand flying to her cheek. "But I'm not going to kill you. I don't stoop to your level."

"Then what are you going to do?" Whitney scowls at her. "You don't have time to drop me off with SHIELD if you want to go save the traitor." Behind the mask, Pepper frowns, seeing the validity to her point. She settles back down onto the ground, releasing Whitney's arm as the girl stares at her in surprise.

"You're right," she concedes, and then winds her arm back to slap Whitney across the face with the back of her glove. Whitney passes out cold on the ground, arms flinging limply to her sides. "Thanks for reminding me."

Pepper rockets off, still clutching tightly to the mask.

At the armoury, she is met by Tony's father and Rhodey; she wastes no times with greetings. Her mask once again slips back to expose her face, only this time she slides the mask on. Though she can still feel the mask clinging to her skin like a damp towel, she also feels herself grow taller, feels added mass to her arms and legs and chest. There's no time to explore the surreal sensation. She steps up to the retinal scanner, and this time it accepts her with a greeting of, " _Stark, Anthony, welcome_."

"Lift the lock-down, now!" she cries in a voice that is not her own. "Let me inside!"

Three heartbeats later, the armoury doors noisily grind upwards. She tosses the mask to the floor and rushes to the inventor's side, followed closely by Howard and Rhodey.

Trying to ignore the blood staining the floor, she drops to her knees and cradles Tony's upper body in her arms. His head lolls heavily like a sack of potatoes, chin to his chest; his skin is clammy and pallid, and he is shivering and slick with sweat. He doesn't respond as she calls his name, nor does he react when she desperately shakes his shoulders, remaining slack as a rag-doll in her hands.

"Computer, run a bio-scan on him," someone says behind her.

" _Anthony's vital signs are weak. User is suffering from the infection peritonitis from a .45 calibre bullet wound to the stomach, as well as from blood loss and fatigue. Immediate surgery required for best chances of survival."_

"You heard it," Howard says, a hand on her shoulder startling Pepper out of her reverie. "You need to get him to the hospital, and quickly."

Pepper nods mutely, still too shocked to speak for once in her life. She gathers Tony's limp body into her metallic arms, swallowing past a lump in her throat as her face-plate settles back into place. As she starts the jets and rushes away, Tony trembles in her arms, subconsciously curling closer to her, hands clenched tightly against his chest. His forehead listlessly bumps against her shoulder plate as she flies, keeping her head and shoulders low to protect him from the brunt force of the wind.

 **A/N Little bit of a cliff-hanger again, but maybe not too bad this time? I hope I wrote the fight scene up-to-par, and I also hope the linear progression of this story isn't too much of a throw. It's definitely going to be three chapters, now, and the third will likely be up soon. I would write it right now if it weren't two hours past midnight here, haha. Hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you Anna Katari (I'm glad you're enjoying, but please, spare me! I'm a weakling when it comes to beatings! Haha! And I agree with you about Whitney, although I may be biased. After all, I've always been a Pepperony fan. Wait! That reminds me, didn't Rhona escape at the end of her episode? Ooh, ideas, ideas, ideas. Haha, merry Christmas! Thank you again.), SilverPedals1402 (Thank you very much! I always grin like crazy when I see you've commented. And I agree. *glares and points accusingly at Tony* If you could just stay alive, mister, that'd be great. Wow, that's a fantastic compliment! Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Especially coming from a gifted fellow writer.), and apps (Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter!).**

 **Well, here we are! Down to what is probably going to be the final chapter on this one. I have other ideas for other stories that I might start on soon, including a few one-shots; but as for now, merry almost Christmas! I hope this message finds you in high spirits. (More notes at the bottom.)**

 ** _IM:AA_ doesn't belong to me.**

In a janitorial closet off to the side of a subway tunnel, Whitney Stane hurriedly packs her meager belongings.

She shoves her clothes into the duffel bag she's brought, followed by her rolled up cot and pillow. Her weapons she leaves untouched, not sure how she can get out with them unseen now that her disguise- the mask- has been stolen from her. More than likely she'll have to leave them behind, but maybe she can at least smuggle out a handgun or two. For insurance, if nothing else right now.

She's muttering to herself under her breath, all defamations of the Starks and of Iron Man and his accomplices along with a few half-formed ideas of vengeance. As she starts to zip up her bag she hears a grinding noise behind her, like something heavy and solid is being dragged across the grimy floor. She whips around, her fingers closing around one of her laser-guns as she does so.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demands of the silhouette in the doorway. Her mind flares with panic; she can hear blood thrumming like a bass drum in her ears. Iron Man steps forward out of the shadows, the shaky fluorescent lights glinting off of the red metal of his armour.

"Not long. I figured you would have noticed me when I first got here." Iron Man- Tony- takes another step forward, peering around the bleak little room, and Whitney feels her face burn with shame at what she's been reduced to. Squatting in this hovel, hiding from the grid with barely a cent to her name, and stealing when she can get away with it. "So this is where you've been holed up."

"How did you find me?" she asks shrilly. Tony sighs, his face-plate disconnecting with a click so that she can see his face. She's surprised at the dejected expression he wears; she'd expected him to arrive gloating at her failure. Instead he just looks like he's been told his puppy had to be euthanised.

"I used Extremis to route through the police scanners listening for descriptions of a young girl carrying an arsenal of weapons. When one came through, I told the cops I would handle it." He paused, searching the room again with curious crystalline eyes. "What made you finally decide to clear out? Did you know you'd been seen?"

Whitney doesn't answer. In all honesty, she'd been planning to vacate the moment she'd learned Tony had been released from the hospital. She knew he would come after her, but he'd been released far sooner than she had expected. Maybe this occurs to him, then, because suddenly a light dawns in his eyes and he nods knowingly. Whitney's grip on the gun tightens, a muscle jumping in her clenched jaw.

"You're supposed to be dead," Whitney sniffs, steely eyes meeting his probing gaze as she continues, "I _wanted_ you to _die_." Tony frowns, one hand lifting subconsciously to hover at his abdomen where she knows his wounds are still fresh and painful. _Good_. She has that satisfaction, if none else.

"I kind of got that feeling, when you shot me twice in the stomach. I mean, I wasn't _exactly_ sure, so thanks for clearing it up."

Whitney can't handle the snark that she once found endearing; not now, not ever again. She quickly hefts the gun, aiming for Tony's exposed face when she pulls the trigger. She isn't surprised when the shields immediately deflect the beam- he must have been anticipating her reaction- but that doesn't stop her from screaming in frustration and attempting again in desperation. She fires off several shots against his armour as his mask once again conceals his face, not thinking to care as they rebound wildly through the room. One of the light fixtures overhead explodes in shards of glass and sparks when it's hit.

"Whitney, stop! One of them will ricochet and kill you!"

She barks out a cold, mirthless laugh. "And that would be such a shame, for you." Despite her words, the hand holding the weapon drops limply to her side. She doesn't want to die. Tony steps forward cautiously, hands raised in a defensive manner.

"I don't want you dead, Whitney. I don't want to hurt you. I'd say I'd want to help you, but I think we're long past that." He glances down at the floor where a pile of weapons lay discarded. "But I can't with a clear conscience let you go free. I'm sorry."

Something akin to loathing hardens in Whitney's eyes. "You don't get to decide that!" She drops to the floor and scrabbles for another weapon; Tony doesn't give her the chance to even wield it. He lifts one of his gauntlets and issues a modified sonic blast in her direction, his planned end-game from the beginning; she screams, hands pressing to her ears, trying to block out the sound, before collapsing to the ground like a fallen marionette. Blonde hair spills out around her head, and for the first time that Tony has seen in years her expression is serene and peaceful.

Tony's arm drops to his side as he kneels next to her. "I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice swallowed up in the deafening noise of a train rumbling by outside. "Whitney, I'm so sorry."

 _A few hours later..._

As he talks, Tony slips a hand beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch at the gauze wrapping around his waist. The doctor had given him strict orders to keep his hands away from the wounds, but half the time he didn't notice what he was doing until he'd irritated the skin or caused it to bleed again. This time he manages to catch himself before he does any damage, though it's difficult when the skin is so inflamed and itchy.

"Fury elected to throw her in the Vault, which I think is a bit overkill." Tony glances over his shoulder at his friends; Pepper is perched on the arm of the plush couch he recently lugged into the armoury at the insistence of his friends. Rhodey paces behind her, hands jammed in his jacket pockets. "Without the mask and her guns, she's just a girl who's taken a few kick-boxing lessons. No threat to them or anyone else."

"Can't you help her?" Rhodey interjects; Tony looks at him quizzically. "If she's sick like she was before, can't you-?"

"I don't think this is the mask anymore, Rhodey," Tony says quietly, gaze shifting towards the floor. He doesn't want to talk about the guilt he bears, about how he blames himself for Whitney's fragile mental state. Intentionally or not, he _had_ been largely responsible for the vegetative state of her father, for the incident with the Iron Monger Mecha. "This is just... This is what she's become. I can't help her. She wants me dead." Tony is about to turn back to the holographic images he has pulled up when he catches sight of Pepper, sitting quietly. _Too_ quietly. She's been strangely silent since he'd gotten back from the Helecarrier. "Pep? You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, uh..." She smiles weakly at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... A few days ago you were in the hospital and we didn't know if you were even going to live. Doesn't that..." She turns to look at both of them. "Doesn't it bother you both, how normal it's becoming? One day, it's not going to have a happy ending. Someone's going to..."

Tony walks over to her, laying a reassuring hand atop Pepper's own. "I know," he says simply. "That's why I'm working right now to take care of all of my loose ends." He squeezes her fingers, turning away once again to observe all the images on display, shimmering faintly in the air. Rhodey circles and sits down on the couch as Tony gestures to the pictures and blocks of text. "Whitney could have started with any of you, and we may not have been so lucky if she had. I think it's time I stop leaving things to fate." With a wave of his hand, new images spring into being like playing cards spilling out of their box; mugshots, police reports, and more. "I'm going to check in on Arthur Parks, try and locate Ghost, see what he's doing now. I've heard the labs in Latveria are in use again, and that obviously can mean nothing good. I'll see what AIM's latest project is, while I'm at it, and make sure everyone else I've gotten locked up is still in their cages."

"And then?" Rhodey asks. "Once you've done all that?"

"And then..." Tony falters, ears popping with a massive yawn that cracks his jaw. He's very zapped of energy suddenly- likely a side effect of the pain medication he's been prescribed. "And then I'm gonna sleep for about a million years." He stumbles forward and collapses onto the couch, resting his head on Pepper's knees as the electronic images flicker out of existence.

"You just got shot a few days ago, and then you were in surgery for seven hours. I think all of this can wait while you rest." Rhodey smiles, clapping a hand on his best friend's shoulder as he stands. "At least let that bullet wound close up before you start tackling Dr. Doom and everyone else."

"Yeah," Tony says, lifting a hand to scratch absentmindedly at the bandages bulging out beneath his shirt. Pepper slaps at his wrist.

"You're gonna rip the stitches! I swear I'm going to have to duct-tape your fingers together, or glue mittens to your hands if you don't stop."

Tony just yawns again, eyes watering, and Pepper stops griping to softly card her fingers through his messy hair. Rhodey regards them disinterestedly for a moment before he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contact list.

"I'm starving. I'm gonna call for dinner." He pauses with his phone to his ear, grinning sheepishly at Tony. "Oh, right..."

"I have to eat that stupid baby-food stuff for the next few weeks," Tony groans, blinking hazily up at him. " _Au revoir_ , greasy pepperoni pizza. You will be missed."

"Ooh, pizza! That actually sounds great." Pepper flinches under the intensity of the glare Tony shoots her. "Ah, sorry Tony."

Rhodey snickers, dialing the number anyway. "Hey, is this The Pizza Palace? Yeah, I'd like to order two pizzas, one pepperoni and one three meat. No. Yeah." He exits the armoury, still on the phone, leaving Pepper and Tony alone to their own devices. The redhead bumps him aside with her knee as she lowers herself onto the couch cushion, allowing the inventor to relax more fully against her side. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling her cheek against the top of his head. One hand creeps upwards, her fingers twining into soft dark hair.

"I'm really glad you're okay, you know," she whispers. "I know I'm probably being overly sensitive- you're literally a super-hero, after all- but I just worry about you so much. Especially when I'm stuck on the sidelines when you're... You know."

"I'm sorry that I give you so much reason to worry," Tony mumbles back, his voice muffling as he turns to press his face into the crook of her neck. His breath tickles pleasantly against the tender skin there. "I don't really try."

"You don't have to try, you trouble-maker." She squeezes him tightly against herself, feeling the vibration in his chest as he hums happily. "But you can make it up to me by taking it easy until you're all better. I understand that you had to go after Whitney, but now you need to wait before you get back in the suit. Take a breather. New York will still be there when you're ready. Probably."

"Got it," he whispers, voice thick with sleep as he begins to slip into unconsciousness. His blue eyes grow distant as his eyelids droop. "Think I'll... Take both of your advice right... _now_..."

When Rhodey arrives back at the armoury, victoriously holding two pizzas in his outstretched arms like trophies, he finds Tony curled up in Pepper's arms on the couch, their legs tangled together and both sound asleep.

Ah, well. More pizza for him.

It's a few days later that Tony finds himself at the hospital again; only this time for a very different reason.

"You can go in now," the nurse tells him as he stands to greet her. She presses a clipboard into his hands. "Since we don't know if he can hear us, we talk to him from time to time. Try to ease his nerves if he's lucid in there." She taps her temple with her index finger to indicate her meaning. Tony nods, attempting a smile that he knows must look forced, and pushes the door open.

The hospital room is in every way identical to the one where he spent the better part of the week recovering after his surgery; one lonely sealed window, four white walls, and the overpowering smell of antiseptic. Tony pauses to take a calming breath when he catches sight of the stately man, tucked beneath white sheets and hooked up to an IV; alive in only the biological sense, clinging to breath with the aid of the machines infiltrating his lungs. This is not Tony's area of expertise, not by a long shot, but he's a quick learner.

Besides, he owes it to Whitney. Like he'd told her a few days previous, at one point they'd practically been family.

Tony closes the door behind him and approaches the hospital bed, folding his free hand over the railing and examining the forlorn figure with as much clinical detachment as he can muster.

"Hey, Stane. Remember me? I'm here to help you."

 **A/N Aaand that's a wrap for now! (I wasn't very happy with this chapter so I delayed posting it for a few hours after I typed it up, haha.) I hope you've all enjoyed this story, and thank you for your kind feedback! Let me know what you thought of the ending- whether it was a satisfying wrap-up or not. Have a wonderful Christmas, as well!**


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